War Games: Act One Finale Aftermath
by Bumpkin
Summary: A little blurb from Bernard's point of view at the end of Batman 631... g.


AN: I know, the subject has been covered, but I hope my version is original enough for ppl to enjoy. I actually started this right after I read the comic, right after it appeared on the shelf, but had a bit of trouble with the actual writing part for a bit... hey we can't all be incredibly gifted and glib, eh? :-)

Description: A little blurb from Bernard's point of view at the end of Batman 631... (g) .

War Games: Act One Finale – Aftermath  
By Marns AKA Bumpkin  
Rated PG-13

Bernard watched in amazement with the rest of the people outside of the school as Batman, Batgirl and Nightwing scattered on Batman's order, disappearing effortlessly – almost supernaturally – into the crowded daylit area around the school. Bernard was glad that he had enough control over himself not to gape like some of the idiots surrounding him. Not that he could really blame them – he couldn't believe that he'd actually seen three of Gotham's infamous resident heroes up close and personal either. Sure, he'd grown up hearing the stories, who in Gotham hadn't? You'd have to be pretty brain dead or clueless to have missed them. Bernard was neither, but he still hadn't really believed he would ever come into contact with any of the vigilantes. You only met them under certain circumstances after all - none that could be considered good. Mind you, getting rescued by them was by far one of the better ways to meet them. He smiled wryly to himself at that last thought. 

Still feeling off-balance and shocky from everything that he had been through since arriving at school this morning, it took a while for background noises to start making sense again. Bernard could have been knocked over with a feather as he heard what the nearest newscaster was saying, when things finally began to register.

"... facts remain unclear at this time, but one fact seems sadly indisputable. The unauthorized intervention of costumed vigilantes into this crisis seems to have caused the death of at least one young girl..."

They were blaming Darla getting shot on _Batman_? How preposterous! The freaking guy was legendary in his hatred of guns – all the stories were _very_ clear on that point. Besides, didn't they realize that this whole damn crisis had been precipitated because of a hit put out on Darla _Aquista_,the school's resident mob daughter? Bernard had watched it all happen from a window on the second floor. He had rushed to see when he'd heard the first crash. The unmistakable sounds of squealing tires and then the tortured shriek of metal on metal signaled a collision to anyone with half a brain.

The same window had given him a very good view of everything going on below as the four gunmen had piled out of their car and surrounded Darla's. Batman hadn't been anywhere around then, or he would have stopped the gunmen from summarily executing Darla's driver and then yanking her brutally from the backseat of her car. Stupid media people, saying that Batman was responsible for any of this, yeah as if. He looked at the journalists like they were something nasty he wanted to scrape off the bottom of his shoe, lip curled upward in a snarl of disgust.

"Morons." Bernard muttered scathingly and was surprised when someone snorted in agreement beside him. He spun on his heel to see who had snuck up on _him_ so silently. Oh, he should have known. It was the ever mysterious and enigmatic Tim Drake who stood so quietly at his side, tidied up and blending easily with the crowd.

Tim had somehow even managed to find a clean shirt somewhere to replace the bloody one he'd been sporting in the school, Bernard noted with interest. It seemed that Tim didn't want anyone to know how involved he had been in keeping the peace inside the school. Bernard came to this semi-educated guess from observing Tim's nonchalant act, rather skillfully avoiding the notice of anybody official still on the scene.

Bernard knew that Tim had been involved pretty much right from the start. Bernard had seen it all from his vantage point at the second story window, but Tim's face was a study in impassivity now, and his body language and posture were relaxed. Bernard knew that Tim was putting on a good show. After all, it was something that Bernard enjoyed and reveled in himself. However, Bernard could say with authority that the acting job Tim was putting on at the moment left Bernard in the shade on his best day.

Sheesh, to look at him you would never think that he had just been smack-dab in the middle of a horrific hostage situation. One where a girl – a girl that had grabbed and kissed him out of the blue only a few weeks ago - had fallen into his arms, bleeding a river of blood from the bullet wound in her shoulder. One where the city's urban legend proved, without a shadow of a doubt, that he was in fact real - by showing up to rescue the kids still trapped in the school.

You wouldn't know, that is, until you looked into Tim's eyes. They told a story very different from his impassive face and relaxed body. They were positively burning with suppressed rage, and a few other things that Bernard couldn't quite pinpoint. It struck Bernard suddenly, the sheer emotion in those eyes was probably the most honest expression Tim had ever shown in his presence.

In fact... Tim had probably shown everyone the closest thing to his true self today than he ever had before. With his decisive actions to defend or aid his peers, his words that could be either soothing or rousing, whichever the situation called for... it had been pretty damn amazing, now that Bernard had some time to think and not just react.

Glancing around at the gawkers hemming in them in on all sides, Bernard decided that this was not the venue for asking his friend the hard questions he intended to pose. Not if he wanted to have a chance of getting any kind of truthful answer from Tim, at any rate. Bernard slung a comradely arm over Tim's shoulders and started to steer the shorter boy towards the shadowed alley across the street, next to the Gotham Brewery. As he did he said in a tone low enough that nobody but Tim would hear him,

"We have to talk m'man."

Tim sighed strongly enough that Bernard could feel it in the arm he had draped over his friend's shoulder and then said tiredly, "About what Bernard?"

Bernard didn't answer until they were tucked into the dim confines of the alley he had been aiming for. Giving Tim's shoulder one last squeeze, Bernard let the arm he had used to steer Tim drop. Bernard watched as Tim walked a few more paces into the alley before he turned so that he was facing both Bernard and the mouth of the alley. Leaning against the brick wall of the alley in a studied nonchalant pose, Bernard tried to mimic Tim's stoic bearing. He had a feeling that he didn't fool Tim for a second, but he started to ask his questions anyway.

That was fine with Bernard – he wanted to be able to watch his friend's expressions as closely as possible, as he asked him some hard questions. He wanted to watch Tim's eyes in particular – they were the only weak point in the armor that Bernard had found to date. If there was anything to read it was going to be through them. Bernard figured if he was going to be able to get any kind of reaction from Tim at all, he would have to hit him hard and fast with the facts.

"About the fact that you know Batman, Tim. Don't even try to deny it. I know you do because I overheard the quiet little conversation between you and the Batman. While I listened – " Tim leveled a look at him, "Okay, eavesdropped, better?" Tim smirked and Bernard had to quell an urge to stick out his tongue.

"Anyway, while I _eavesdropped _on the conversation between you and tall, dark and scary urban-legend-come-to-life, I wondered why you sounded so smug when you said that you knew he would find his way to the nurse's office. I mean, firstly – I was pretty freaked when he showed up at all, but then you were so arrogant towards him and he didn't, like, totally _annihilate_ you. That was freaky enough to start with. What in the hell did he mean when he said that you left him an easy trail to follow?"

Tim's smirk had died out a long time before Bernard finished. To his flamboyant friend's chagrin, Tim had avoided Bernard's searching look by hanging his head to pinch at the bridge of his nose. Plus, now that Bernard had stopped talking himself, he could hear that Tim was muttering things darkly under his breath. Bernard was starting to get worried when Tim finally stopped, sighed heavily and looked up at him with old-looking blue eyes.

"Tim?" Bernard asked with concern. He'd never seen his friend look so worn. Tim gave Bernard a slight smile to reassure him. It didn't.

"It's okay, _I'm_ okay – honest – I just can't believe that I didn't see you were close enough to hear all that. I know I'm out of practice but... hell!" It seemed that Tim's constantly roaming eyes had caught sight of something over Bernard's shoulder, and it was something Tim didn't like.

Bernard watched as his friend's lips drew together into a tight, angry line. The eyes that had been old and tired-looking only a few moments before, hardened into something cold and frightening. 'Whoa Nelly! Easygoing Tim could almost give old Batsy a run for it in the scary look department. Who'da thunk it?'

"Dammit!" Tim growled and Bernard jumped. 'Yep, definitely give old Batsy a run for it.' Thankfully when Tim started to talk again it was in a slightly more normal voice, still low though in both volume and tone. "Listen Bernard – I know that an unsatisfied curiosity is the worst possible thing that _you_ can imagine, but frankly at the moment I can't answer any of your questions."

Bernard almost started to whine out loud with physical pain when Tim said that. Tim continued, "I know, I know - it's going to drive you absolutely nuts isn't it? But it can't be helped – and truthfully my friend I don't know if you really want the answers, but I'll leave that choice up to you. Doesn't mean I'll answer later either though - just letting you know to keep things fair." Bernard pouted in response and Tim briefly smirked. It faded as fast as it came, never reaching Tim's eyes.

"Anyway, I need you to do me a favor, pal. I need you to keep any and all mention of me, and anything I did today, quiet. Nothing about me can be mentioned to the media or police, or even the school officials – can you do that for me buddy? If you do I promise to answer one question later on - no matter what it is – honestly." Bernard perked up, thinking of the havoc he could wreak with a single unrestricted question, guaranteed a truthful answer. Tim must have seen the unholy glee in Bernard's eyes, and quickly added the rider, "Somehow at least."

"There were an awful lot of qualifiers around that promise, Tim my friend." Bernard noted sardonically.

"Yeah well, there's an awful lot that I can't talk about - ever." Tim shot back and Bernard grinned, that was more like the Tim he knew. Tim returned to his original point, "Gonna do your part of the bargain, oh roving ambassador?"

"Yes your royal heinie, your wish is my command." Bernard replied snarkily.

Tim laughed and physically reached out to turn Bernard around to push him out of the alley. "Get a move on, 'Your Excellency' – time's a wasting."

"Pushy, pushy – sheesh. I'm going already." Bernard jokingly protested, then strode off as Jack Drake approached the alley Tim was still standing in.

This time Bernard really didn't mean to eavesdrop – really he didn't – but the volume Jack Drake started to bawl Tim out at kind of made it hard not to. Then there was the fact that Bernard just wasn't wired in such a way to be able to ignore something so... fascinating. Involuntarily, his steps slowed so that he would be able to hear as much as he could as he made his way across the street to honour his promise to Tim.

"Just what did you think you were doing Timothy Drake? I heard kids that are still over there talking about you – about the crazy and reckless stuff that you did in there. Dammit Tim, we talked about you getting involved in stuff like this, didn't we? I thought that we were agreed, you're retired. It was over. You swore to me that you wouldn't talk to or see those people again -"

"Dad!" Bernard faintly heard Tim bark at his whining father to shut him up long enough to get a word in edgewise. "I _am _still retired, this whole situation was an aberration. I hardly went looking for it, for pete's sake, it came to me when my friend was attacked and my school was invaded. What would you have had me do? Ignore the situation and do nothing? Use the hard earned, specialized skills I have to make my escape and run? Tell me Dad, give me an idea of what you would have thought of as acceptable behavior for _your_ son." Even faint, Bernard could hear how coldly furious and scathing Tim's tone was as he spoke to his father.

After a few more steps, the distance had finally become great enough between Bernard and the alley for the voices of Tim and his father to fade into senseless rumblings. Bernard found himself picking up his pace automatically when he could no longer overhear the intriguing discussion. Absently he thought about everything that he had both seen and heard about his friend Tim over the course of the day. He had already drawn a few likely conclusions from his observations. Tim's reticence about other things had also provided Bernard with more than a few clues.

Now, as Bernard wandered in and amongst his peers making sure no one said anything about Tim, he thought of the one question he was allotted as a reward for the service. There were so many possibilities. There was so much he wanted to know...

'Argh! How could Tim limit me to just _one_ question!'

The End.


End file.
